


Sea Stalk

by Linnai



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Can be read as pre-ship or platonic, Drama, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Pastfic, Rastakhan is worried, Zul is a dumbass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 00:59:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16440092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linnai/pseuds/Linnai
Summary: In which Zul returns from his very first overseas voyage and realizes too late that he's forgotten something very important.





	Sea Stalk

**Author's Note:**

> I was leveling herbalism on my alt and found out some really neat lore about [Sea Stalks](https://wow.gamepedia.com/Cultural_Significance) and then well I accidentally an entire drabble.
> 
> Very grateful to [mcfuck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcfuck/pseuds/mcfuck) for their thorough betaing, all remaining mistakes are mine! Their zulrasta fics are amazing please go check them out.

"Two months, Zul,” the king growled. "Dis flower withered  _ two months _ ago." 

A clawed digit violently stabbed the shriveled mass of dry petals in Zul's palm, and the baffled troll nearly flinched at the abrupt motion. 

What was Rastakhan going on about? Why had he given Zul this dried up flower? How did this flower have anything to do with the tablets he'd recovered? He wracked his memory, unsettled by the sudden change in subject.

Rastakhan had greeted his prophet cordially as he’d disembarked, had congratulated him and the crew on a successful expedition, and Zul had begun apprising him of all their marvelous finds, and then… this.

The king leaned closer, the wooden planks of the pier creaking with the shift of his great bulk.

"Explain yourself,” he demanded, and there was anger clearly written in every line of his scowl, in his bared teeth and furrowed brow. 

Zul swallowed, eyes flickering to the sides, searching for some hint of the source of his friend's fury. The secluded pier was emptied of nearly sailors and laborers, cargo left stacked in piles. 

When had that happened? Rastakhan's retinue must have herded everyone away while Zul had exchanged pleasantries with the king, and now there was only the light breeze, and the splashing of the waves, and the rustling of lush greenery... 

… and Rastakhan's stare, boring into him. The larger troll  _ loomed, _ an implacable barrier standing between Zul and the one exit from the pier.

An old, irrational fear suddenly slammed into him. Had the king finally tired of him, had he finally believed the jealous rumors that had dogged Zul throughout his swift ascendency (unnaturally so, the whispers decried) from spirit-touched orphan to royal prophet?

Had the king cleared the area in preparation for an execution?

The prophet stepped back, grasping urgently at the threads of fate ever-woven about him and  _ focused,  _ and-- and there was no danger. Nothing immediate, at least.

Zul relaxed incrementally, schooling away his brief flash of fear and preparing to admit his utter confusion, but already the king's fierce expression was softening, the rage smoothing into a sad weariness. 

A massive hand rose up, pausing briefly before settling onto his shoulder. Rastakhan closed his eyes and sighed gustily. 

"Ya really have no idea, do ya, Zul."

"I... I must confess I do not, my king,” the prophet ventured cautiously.

"Ya idiot. Bastard. Incompetent elf-spawn. Saurid-fucker. Dune-bound trash,” Rastakhan muttered, hand lifting from Zul's shoulder to massage his brow.

" Rastakh- " Zul started, scandalized and maybe a little hurt, but then Rastakhan was resting one hand and then the other on his cheeks, cradling his face, and the sudden intimacy and burning warmth of it caused his retorts to flee into a blank void.

"I thought you was  _ dead, _ Zul."

Oh.

Wait,  _ what? _

Rastakhan groaned at Zul's stunned silence, and pulled at the smaller troll's clenched fist, revealing the crushed and sweaty remains of the withered flower. The king took it with a gentleness that belied his imposing stature.

"Zul. Before ya left, I gave ya a stalk. About dis long,” he said, indicating a length of roughly six inches between his hands. “Green, wit blue flecks."

He gestured with the hand that held the flower.  _ "Dis _ is de flower that belonged to dat stalk. The plant be called a sea stalk."

"Now, Zul, dis is how the sea stalk works,” Rastakhan began, enunciating as if speaking to a very slow child, but Zul was already flushing in mortification as the name of the plant finally,  _ finally  _ rang a bell.

“Ah.”

Sea stalk. A seaside plant with magical properties that allowed the plucked flower to live as long as its durable stalk remained alive and intact. Moist ocean air could sustain it for months, but a soak in seawater would kill it.

And so a plant was kept in every Zandalari ship, with the flowers stored at the dockmaster’s office. Their withering would signify a capsizing. Zandalari sailors stitched a stalk into their clothing, leaving the flower with their loved ones, as assurance that they had not drowned.

And Zul had known all of this in an academic fashion, having been educated as a scholar in thousands of years of accumulated Zandalari knowledge, but the simple _ (boring) _ facts of current Zandalari life had been mere footnotes. Quickly forgotten.

Of no practical use to a scholar and prophet who rarely mingled with the lower class and had little cause to fear their simple, inconsequential deaths.

And so when Rastakhan had given him the stalk as a parting gift for Zul’s very first sea voyage, placing it gently in his hand and clasping it closed, offering a heartfelt wish for a swift and safe journey, Zul had flippantly thanked the king for his gift and gone right back to packing his extensive collection of delicate ritual implements.

The beautifully decorated stick, wrapped in colorful rope and beadwork, had  _ obviously  _ been a quaint luck charm, one a skilled prophet such as he had no need of.

Loa have mercy.

“Rastakhan, I… “ Zul began wretchedly.

“So, what did ya do wit it?” Rastakhan plucked off a petal. “Did ya trade it to the local savages for one of those tablets?” He tore off another petal. “Did ya think it be a snack for the fishies?” A third drifted to the ground. “Did ya grind it up for some stupid potion?”

“I-” Zul started, only to be interrupted again:

“Did ya stick it up your ass?”

“Rasta-”

“Well? Dis better be good, Zul.”

“I… Rastakhan, surely ya checked wit the dockmaster, and knew the ship was fine,” Zul suggested feebly.

“I did! I knew dat the  _ ship  _ be fine! I knew dat the  _ other _ sailors be alive, I sent people to check their families!” Rastakhan roared, his wrath sparking back to life once again. “But what I cared about was  _ you! _ Ya can’t even swim! For two months I thought dere was a very good chance dat you, my friend, my most stupid friend, might be  _ dead! Two months! _ ”

Zul hung his head in shame.

“I- my king. I… I did not bring it wit me at all.”

Rastakhan gaped at him.

“I left it in my quarters. I thought- I thought it was a mere charm. It must have dried out…” he trailed off, face burning in chagrin.

Silence.

Seagulls screeched overhead.

Waves splashed against the pillars of the pier.

Zul stared gloomily at the ground.

“Rezan save me from  _ idiots, _ ” the king finally intoned.

Zul saw the blow coming before Rastakhan even raised his hand. The swipe, half-hearted as it was, still hurt, snapping his head to the side and bringing tears to his eyes.

“Zul! You was supposed to dodge dat!” Rastakhan exclaimed, aghast.

“I deserved it, my king,” Zul sighed, rubbing at his stinging cheek.

“Idiot!”

Rastakhan checked Zul over concernedly, turning his face this way and that before being satisfied that the smaller troll had only been bruised.

“Bastard. Always making me worry.”

“I’m truly sorry, my friend.” Zul offered, contrite.

Rastakhan shook his head ruefully and opened his arms wide, lips curling into a weary, but fond smile. Zul turned his tusks away obligingly and squeaked only a little when Rastakhan pulled him into a crushing hug.

“Zul... I’m glad you be back. Dat ya be alive. I don't know what I would do without ya,” Rastakhan said sincerely.

Silently, Zul hugged him back.

“Even if ya be dumber than a saurid,” Rastakhan added.

**Author's Note:**

> Jani please forgive me for the insult, I like my hat!
> 
> I'm [@atalzul](https://atalzul.tumblr.com) on tumblr please come talk to me about zul


End file.
